


Still The One

by sebastian2017



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Steve Rogers, Canon Disabled Character, Childhood Sweethearts, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mechanic Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23070061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebastian2017/pseuds/sebastian2017
Summary: Steve moves back to Brooklyn a decade after running away from it. He'd known it would take some time to adjust back to his old neighborhood, but there was one big thing he never planned for: Realizing he's still in love with his high school boyfriend, Bucky Barnes.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53
Collections: Stucky Bingo 2019





	Still The One

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for square 'childhood sweethearts' of the Stucky bingo! 
> 
> cw: alcohol, vague reference to a military accident

Steve has a complicated relationship with Brooklyn. That’s probably the easiest and gentlest way to put it. He loves the city. Truly does, from the bottom of his heart. And he considers himself just about the luckiest guy in the world for being born here. Nowhere in the world quite like Brooklyn. And he’d had a happy childhood here. Even through all the illnesses and bullies, he’d never been truly unhappy.

But Brooklyn is also the place where Steve had seen his mother die. And no matter how much he tried, he could never separate the two things in his heart. So as soon as his mother was buried and he’d scraped up the money, Steve had picked up and left. Barely 19 years old and making a life out of himself out of nothing. Looking back, Steve’s shocked he ever made it without falling flat on his face a few times, but he’s grateful he did. The time away had done him well.

That had been ten years back. It seems impossible sometimes, to think that he’s spent a decade away from Brooklyn. Practically a third of his life. That’s the thought that lingers about his mind for weeks as the year comes to a close. A third of his life. The more Steve thinks about it, the more he realizes that he doesn’t want Brooklyn to end up being a footnote in his life, somewhere he grew up and reminisces about after a whole life lived elsewhere.

So just as suddenly as Steve had decided to leave Brooklyn, he decides to move back. It’s much easier than his first move. He’s older now, with a proper savings account and a steady job he can work at from a remote location. But somehow, he’s far more scared this time than he ever was as a kid. He supposes he just didn’t know better when he was younger. Now that he's shed that youthful naivete, he approaches the move with a healthy amount of worry and cynicism. He's going home, but he knows it's not going to be the home he once knew. It's just a shadow of what it once was without his mother around. Part of him considers cancelling the whole moving plans, but somehow, here he is, moving boxes into a too small, too expensive apartment in his old childhood neighborhood. 

It's surreal, to say the least. He remembers walking through these same streets as a boy and recognizing everyone around him. He remembers the grandmothers sitting on porches yelling after him to be careful or the shop owners who would ask about his mother. He's not sure if the street simply grew beyond him, but it all seems cold and impersonal now. Still. Too late now, he's already moved in. He just hopes as things progress, it'll start feeling more like home. He goes to buy his groceries - at some large, chain store instead of the tiny, family owned place his mother used to shop at - and feels like he's in a completely different city. He decides to distract himself by actually getting some work done and setting up his work space, only to realize that some of his watercolors had been somehow ruined on the flight here from California. And when he goes to take his motorcycle downtown in search of an art supplies store, it doesn't start, because why wouldn't the day just get progressively worse? 

Steve tries to tell himself that things are just overwhelming right now, because it's all so new, and that this isn't just some omen about what Brooklyn will be like now that he's moved back. As he walks to the nearest mechanic he can find, he tries to remind himself that it's probably just the hecticness that comes from any cross country move. Definitely not an omen of any sort. He’s still not too pleased when he gets to the mechanic, but he’s calm enough when he gets to the shop.

The front of the shop is empty when he walks in and Steve hesitates a moment before pressing the bell on the counter. He can hear a general sense of chaos from the back until someone finally comes out to the front of the shop, holding a pot of coffee and not a mug in sight. It’s just the level of chaos Steve expects from a mechanic.

“Welcome to Winter. What can we (read: me, because my boss is lazy and watching baseball games in the back) help you with today?” he asks.

Steve decides to ignore the side comment, because he never quite had the New Yorker’s touch for rude small talk. “My bike broke down? I’m a bit useless at engines and vehicles, so I couldn’t tell you what’s wrong with it, but I was wondering if you do any house visits? Or could tow it here?”

“Ah. Well, we don’t tow or do on site visits, but we know a few people who’ll do it for cheap. Barnes!” the man calls over his shoulder towards the back room. “Could you leave the Yankees alone for two minutes and bring the referral sheet?”

There’s some muffled grumbling and Steve just stands there awkwardly, feeling the overwhelming urge to apologize for intruding, even though he’s of course done nothing out of the ordinary. A few seconds later, someone emerges from the backroom, back first as though they’re clearly trying to catch a few more seconds of the game. The silhouette seems vaguely familiar in a way he can’t place until he turns around and then suddenly, Steve wonders how he hadn’t noticed immediately.

Bucky Barnes. Childhood best friend, cause of Steve’s early adolescent bisexual awakening, boyfriend through most of high school before a not messy, but rather heartbreaking break up because of their circumstances. Bucky looks every bit as handsome and boyish as he remembers, except now he's managed to grown the scruff he'd so badly wanted all of high school and his left arm ends a few inches below the shoulder, something Steve remembers having read about on Facebook in their old high school graduation class page, but had felt far too uncomfortable as the ex-boyfriend reaching out about in the moment. Now, Steve feels frozen into place for a moment and wonders if this might be horribly awkward and if he should see about finding some other mechanic. But no, Bucky breaks out into a huge grin and hurries around the counter to give him a friendly hug.

“Holy shit! Steve fucking Rogers!” he exclaims, holding him back to arm’s length to look at him. “It’s been ages. I thought you left this place for good.”

“I thought so, too, but... just moved back this week,” Steve explains, feeling immediately at ease now that he knows there isn’t any tension between him and Bucky for how things had ended. 

“Welcome back, pal. This place has missed you,” Bucky says and pats his shoulder. It's a casual sort of touch and definitely not something Steve should really read into, but he can't help being a little relieved to see that things aren't awkward between him and Bucky. 

"I've missed it too," he admits, which is true, even if he sometimes feels out of place here now that his mother is dead. "I'll call that tow truck and see about getting it here. Think you can squeeze me in today?" 

"Tow truck? Aww, jeez, Steve, forget about that. You don't have to worry about that. A friend like you definitely has house calls privileges," Bucky says, grabbing a coat and keys off a hook on the wall. "Where are you parked?" 

Steve knows he's not going to win this argument, because Bucky's just as stubborn as he is, but he tries nonetheless. "You don't have to go bending your rules for me, Buck. I'm sure your baseball game was much more interesting than walking to my apartment with me. I can get a tow truck. It's really not a problem."

"Yeah, not gonna happen. So it's in your apartment, huh? Well, you'd best tell me or I'm just going to stop by every residential building nearby until I spot a broken bike and won't you feel silly, watching me mess with a bunch of stranger's bikes?" Bucky tells him, starting to head out the front door. "Shop's yours 'til I get back, Clint. Try not to bankrupt us!" 

"No promises, Barnes!" 

Steve is sure he might die from the awkwardness at any moment, but he goes outside with Bucky and walks along next to him as they make their way back to where Steve's bike was left. He should definitely say something instead of all this endless silence, but he can't think of anything that doesn't make him feel extremely foolish. Finally, he settles for simply stating the obvious and gesturing behind them towards where the shop is. "So, do you own the shop?" 

"Yup. Scraped up some savings when I got back home to start it up. I didn't have very much I could do besides work with engines and whatnot once I came home, but there weren't too many places eager to hire the one armed mechanic." Bucky shrugs. "Started up my own place, instead." 

"Wow. That's... really great, Buck. I'm happy for you. Seems like you're really getting by around here," Steve notes. 

"I certainly can't complain. And what about you? Last I heard, you were gallivanting around California," Bucky says. "Get tired of perfect weather and beautiful people?" 

Steve laughs. "Trust me, the weather isn't perfect. But no, I guess I just started to miss home. Started wondering if maybe living the rest of my life in California because it's where I decided to run away to as a dumb kid was really the smartest idea." 

"Running away is a harsh way of putting it. You were going through a lot. More than any 18 year old should," Bucky insists. "I always thought you handled it pretty well. Better than I would have in your place." 

That's definitely a diplomatic way of putting it, considering Steve had dumped Bucky a few weeks before he'd shipped out to basic training amidst the quite epic breakdown he'd had that led to him moving to California. But if Bucky chooses to remember it this way, Steve's definitely not going to stop him. "Well... Maybe. But point is, I realized that New York is home, even if Ma isn't around anymore. So here I am now." 

"New York is glad to have you back, pal. Now, I'm going to take a wild guess and say this is your bike? You always did like the classics," Bucky says, approaching Steve's parked bike. 

He nods. "You're right there. Now, like I said, I don't know anything about cars, so I haven't even taken a look at it. If it's something really stupid, like it only takes special California gas or there's a screw just slightly out of place, please don't laugh too much at me." 

Bucky grins. "No promises, Stevie. But don't worry. I remember perfectly well how terrible you were in shop class. Wouldn't have passed without my help." 

"Not much has changed." Though to be fair, Steve had always spent a significant portion of that class distracted by Bucky or getting dragged out for long bathroom breaks that were really an excuse to make out in the hallways. Who could blame him for not performing too well? He most definitely doesn't mention that, though, because things aren't quite so awkward right now. If he brings up the fact that they used to regularly make out during class... Definitely awkward. So instead, he just goes to sit on the curb and watches as Bucky looks around the engine. "So, what's the verdict? Am I going to be relying on public transportation until I can scrounge up enough money for a new bike on my sad artist's salary?" 

Bucky just laughs. "Nah, you'll be okay. I need to get some parts for it, but I can probably come by tomorrow to fix it and it'll be good as new." 

"Perfect. You're a lifesaver, Buck. How much do I owe you?" Steve asks, pulling out his wallet.

"Don't be ridiculous." Bucky waves the money away. "For this, nothing. You'll be lucky if I even let you pay for the parts tomorrow. Consider it a housewarming gift." 

Steve grumbles under his breath that he'll get the money to him one way or another, but nods. "If you're sure. I'll ask again tomorrow, be prepared. Can I at least offer you some coffee?" 

The offer escapes him before he can really think it through too much, but Bucky agrees and Steve has the entire elevator ride to the eighth floor to be mortified about having his ex-boyfriend in his apartment. Maybe this is just embarrassing for him. Maybe Bucky's actually managed to have a life all this years in a way Steve hasn't and would think Steve is just as ridiculous as can be for being so embarrassed by this. Maybe Bucky's one of those people who doesn't count any exes from high school as real exes and just sees Steve as an old friend. Maybe he's had so many partners since their breakup that he barely even remembers being with Steve. And maaaybe Steve is thinking about this far too much and making it worse from his drawn out silence as he digs himself into a deeper and deeper hole in his head. 

Steve gets two mugs of coffee for them and passes one over to Bucky, desperately hoping for one of them to break the silence. Maybe he should say something about the baseball teams out west? A joke about following the Dodgers? Bucky ends up breaking the silence, though in probably the one way more mortifying than just the silent bout of awkwardness. 

"So, I know you and I had a pretty nasty breakup back in the day and I can't speak for you, but on my end, we're totally cool. No hard feelings or anything. I just want to make sure you know that," Bucky says, putting his coffee down so he can place a serious hand on Steve's shoulder. 

Steve looks at it and hopes he doesn't look too sheepish as he nods. "Yeah. No hard feelings. For what it's worth, I'm sorry about how everything went down. I was kind of a dick to you." 

"Your Ma had just died. You were hurting." Bucky shrugs. "I know not to take it personally. I definitely said my fair share of terrible things, too. But, hey, water under the bridge now." 

"Yeah... It's in the past," Steve agrees. 

And somehow, that doesn't feel entirely true, but Steve is just glad to know for sure that Bucky doesn't hate him. It makes sharing a coffee together much easier and Steve finds he can actually enjoy it now. They even catch up a bit, telling each other about everything that's gone on since they last saw each other. Which, considering their last meeting was when they were 18 and fresh out of high school, is quite a lot. By the time Bucky has to leave to get back to work, they've made plans to meet up again at another time for a proper meet up and Steve finds it's easy as can be to fall back into step as good friends together, without any of the lingering post break up discomfort that he'd feared. Mostly, though, being around Bucky just makes Steve realize how very much he'd missed him lately and wonder how he'd ever made it so long away from New York.

****

Hanging out with Bucky is just as fun as Steve remembers. Sure, they're no longer sneaking away into dark corners to make out or anything similar, but they have the same easy camaraderie that Steve remembers. When they get together for drinks later in the week, a part of Steve feels like they hadn't spent any time apart in the first place. They still laugh at each other's dumb jokes and share knowing looks and can sustain an endless stream of small talk. Steve feels like a teenager again, but in the best way possible. California had been good, but it definitely hadn't been this. 

They spend a few hours at one of the local bars - somewhere they'd once tried unsuccessfully to sneak into in junior year of high school, Steve remembers - just talking, catching up on everything that had happened. Steve hadn't wanted to ask about the arm, not wanting to be rude and figuring - correctly - that Bucky was asked plenty about it by overly curious people anyway. But Bucky had offered up the information anyway, so Steve finds out about the automobile accident in an ambush that had led Bucky to lose his arm and the long, complicated process to acclimate himself to civilian life once more when he'd been discharged. 

He feels like a terrible friend - because he'd always considered himself best friend first, boyfriend second, even if he'd done a terrible job of showing it - for not being around during any of this, and he doesn't have anything similar to offer up, so he simply shares stories about all the failed jobs he'd picked up here and there. It's not on the same level at all, but Bucky seems amused enough about it. Steve will take what he can get. He wishes he could be more surprised about realizing that making Bucky laugh is just as satisfying now as when they were teenagers and dating. But he thinks a part of him had always known that there's nowhere in the world he feels as happy as sat here, sharing a beer with Bucky and telling each other ridiculous stories about their time apart. Steve can only imagine the night would be any better if they were reminiscing about times they'd spent together instead of apart. 

It's just about the perfect evening. That is, until some drop dead gorgeous redhead walks in and makes a beeline for Bucky, and proceeds to plop herself down on his lap like she belongs there. Which is fine. Totally fine. Steve's been away for ten years, it makes sense that Bucky's had different partners in all this time, with people who are strangers to Steve. His days of knowing everyone in the neighborhood were over when he'd decided to leave a decade ago. Now are the days of... strange women who are probably his old friends' girlfriends coming and sitting on their laps while out at bars. 

"You didn't tell me you'd be out and about today, James," the woman says, giving him a stern look. And Steve can't help but reel a bit at that. James? Even Steve hadn't been allowed to call Bucky James when they'd been together. "What's a girl to think? That you don't want to see me? I'm a bit offended." 

"Aww, don't be that way, Nat. Steve's an old friend. We're catching up. I'm allowed to have other friends, you know," Bucky tells her, rolling his eyes. 

"We were mostly talking about stupid things we did together in high school, if that makes you feel any better," Steve offers. Partly, he wants to argue on Bucky's behalf that he doesn't need his girlfriend's permission to go out with friends, but it would probably be rude to interject himself in the private relationship of two people who are nearly strangers, even if one of them had once upon a time been his closest friend in the world. Besides. Maybe it's an ongoing joke between them. Steve doesn't want to feel more foolish than he already does. 

The woman looks him over like she might eat him alive before smirking. "The famous Steve, huh? I've definitely heard some of those high school stories before. I didn't realize you were coming to Brooklyn. Bucky didn't mention." 

"I didn't know!" Bucky interjects. "Stevie here surprised us all." 

"It was almost as spontaneous a decision as when I decided to leave in the first place," Steve explains, shrugging a bit sheepishly. He has no reason to feel embarrassed explaining his reasoning behind momentous life decisions to a stranger, but he is anyway. She just has that sort of aura to her, which would make anyone feel small by comparison. 

"Hmm. Well, welcome back to Brooklyn. Bucky is happy to have you back, I'm sure. I'm Natasha," she says, finally getting off Bucky's lap and pulling a third chair up to them. 

Steve is too polite to protest, so it seems this is what they're doing now. It's fine. Steve had liked being here with just Bucky, but he's sure Bucky is enjoying having some of his other friends around. It had been a little too easy to pretend that things were just as they'd always been while he was here alone with Bucky. Like they were still high schoolers and there wasn't years between them now. Probably for the best that they be interrupted before he put his foot in his mouth. 

Besides, Natasha is lovely, too. Steve feels a strange sort of heaviness in his chest when he sees her interacting with Bucky, but he does everything he can to ignore it, because he has no business feeling like that. He tells himself to just be happy for his friend instead, which is definitely the more appropriate response in this situation. Now if only he could actually get himself to do it. He keeps it together well enough during their night out, but when he gets home, he immediately plays one of his more depressing playlists and opens up Facebook to scroll through old pictures of him and Bucky back when they'd first gotten together. Not his best moment. 

But just a one time thing. He'll wallow this once and tomorrow, he'll be a perfectly good friend and be happy that Bucky's found someone to be happy with. 

***

So. That was a lie. He gets together with Bucky on a semi regular basis now, to drink and talk and reminisce and ease back into the friendship they'd once had. Some of Bucky's other friends make frequent appearances, among them Natasha. Steve is glad that he can be a part of Bucky's friend group once more, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't always feel some odd sort of way when Natasha joins them. Steve does his best to not let himself feel it too deeply and, mostly, he's successful. At least, when he's out with Bucky and his friends and Natasha's come along, he doesn't show it. 

Always, though, when he's back home and laying alone in bed, he dwells on it for far too long, wondering what they're up to and if Natasha loves Bucky as much as he deserves to be loved and if Bucky is truly happy and if that could have been him, had he never left. Far too many thoughts, all of them far from appropriate for an old high school friend who he'd dumped and left behind a decade ago. By his second month back in Brooklyn, Steve's come to terms with staying up on some nights asking himself things he should never even consider. At least he doesn't do it when he's around Bucky. 

Or, as he finds out after too many beers during a house party in Bucky's apartment one night, he doesn't do it around Bucky when he's sober. 

Drunken Steve is far less subtle about it. He tries to spend the evening with Bucky, but every time Natasha comes nearby, he can feel his face betraying him, scrunching up into glares and scowls. He doesn't want to ruin this rekindled friendship with Bucky, nor does he want to open the door to an uncomfortable conversation between them, so he does what he used to always do during high school parties, when Bucky was distracted with other friends: he goes to the kitchen and sulks for a while, nursing a beer and glaring at the wall. 

It's not as subtle as he thinks, because he's only been there a few minutes when Sam, one of Bucky's friends that Steve has hit it off with, approaches him with his trademark concerned, but casual look. "You doing all right, Steve? You look like someone kicked one of your puppies." 

Steve sighs and, because Sam has some supernatural ability to get the truth out of people, actually doesn't lie. "I'm not in the best of moods right now." 

"Oh? Everything all right? I know moving to a new city can be hard sometimes," Sam says, sitting up on the counter next to Steve. "I'm all ears if you want it." 

"I can see why Bucky said you're like a mom friend on steroids," Steve mumbles. 

"I prefer to think of myself as the counselor friend," he corrects. "But hey, offer still stands." 

"I just..." Steve sighs and checks quickly to make sure no one else is within earshot. "I don't like seeing Natasha around here." 

"Oh. Well. Natasha can take some getting used to, but she's nice. Just a bit curt sometimes. It's hard to read her when you've just met her," Sam agrees. 

Steve shakes his head. "Not like that. Natasha the person is fine. She's great. I just... I really hate seeing her with Bucky. Fuck, Sam, I think I'm still in love with Bucky. Actually, saying it out loud makes me realize that yeah, I’m definitely still in love with Bucky." 

"Oh. That's. Well, yeah, I guess I can see how that makes these parties a little more complicated, man," Sam agrees. "What does Nat have to do with it, though?" 

It seems like such an obvious answer, that Steve's mood dips at having to explain it and he grumbles, "Well... they're dating. It's just hard to see them together and think that might have been me if I hadn't left." 

"Oh. Um. About that..." Sam frowns down at his beer for a second before shaking his head. "I should probably text you in the morning when we're both sober. And speaking of being sober, maybe that's enough beer for tonight?" 

Steve looks down at the bottle he'd been opening, that he doesn't even want and had mostly just grabbed out of a need to be doing something with his hands. He nods and puts it back on the counter. One thing he's learned in the short time he's known Sam is that if Sam doesn't know what to do in a situation, it's probably hopeless. Which Steve had known already. But saying it out loud to another person and seeing them agree makes it all feel a million times realer. And in the worst way possible. "You're right. I think I'm going to head home, actually. I'd appreciate it if you, uh, don't tell Bucky about this." 

"Your secret's safe with me, man," Sam promises, patting his shoulder. "And, you know, if you ever need someone to talk to... I'm around." 

Steve nods and makes his decidedly ungraceful exit without another word. He knows he should at least say goodbye to Bucky before leaving, if not because they're friends, then at least because it's the polite thing to do. But the alcohol has gotten to his head and he thinks if he takes one look at Bucky he might do things he regrets, so better to be impolite and just make a quick escape. Unfortunately, Bucky seems to not pick up on the unspoken signals Steve is sending out about wanting to leave unnoticed, because Steve is intercepted at the front door by none other than the exact man he's trying to avoid. 

"Steve! Leaving so soon?" Bucky asks, putting a hand on Steve's arm and leaning in close to be heard over the music and chatter. 

It just about makes it impossible for Steve to have a normal thought over the embarrassment and the sound of his heart shattering into a million pieces over what he'd let go. "Yeah, sorry, Buck. I have an early morning meeting tomorrow. I should have mentioned it beforehand." 

"Meeting on a Sunday morning?" Bucky asks, looking more confused than suspicious. "Jeez, Steve, do they never give you a break? Are you sure everything's okay? You don't look so great." 

"Ah, you know." Steve shrugs. "Art industry things. I'm fine. Just need some rest. Enjoy your party, okay?" 

"Of course. Thanks for coming by, pal." Bucky pulls him in for a hug and then, mercifully, disappears again to go back with his friends, so he doesn't have to see how Steve all but crumbles as he makes his way back out to the street. 

At least it's still a bit chilly out. The cold goes a long way in helping him sober up a bit on his walk. Not so much that he doesn't still lay down in his bed for close to an hour, coming up with all sorts of wild scenarios in his mind of how things might have gone differently if he'd stayed in Brooklyn. It's, Steve is willing to admit, a bit pathetic. But, at least he's doing his wallowing at home, away from judgemental, prying eyes. 

****

Steve wakes up hungover and regretful. No surprise there. He's glad he didn't really have a meeting to go to, because right now, all he wants to do is lay in bed, feel miserable, and maybe eventually gather up enough courage to make himself something greasy and unhealthy for breakfast. And then say a quick prayer that he actually manages to keep it down, because yeah, drinking amidst his misery last night was a mistake. He would vow to never drink again, but he knows perfectly well that he will. Maybe he should look into some sort of magic potion that could keep hangovers away. He's sure he could make a fortune with that. 

In the meantime, he keeps the misery at bay with a long lie in and then a breakfast as greasy as he'd imagined, which thankfully stays down and works wonders in making him feel close to human again. By noon, he's forgotten all about his magical hangover cure pitch and can actually stand upright without a headache. It's quite the accomplishment and really, he's ready to let the night go. Ideally, he can forget about it sooner rather than later. So, of course, his phone chimes with a message from Sam to remind him that he ran his mouth too much to simply let it go. 

{sms - Sam} Back in the world of the living? 

{sms - Steve} Just barely, but yes.

{sms - Sam} Great. Take a call? 

Steve just calls as an answer, always having been one to prefer phone calls over text. It was the little old man in him, Bucky had always said when they were kids. Which, fair enough. His mother had joked often when he was a kid that Steve would have done well in another time. He's glad Sam seems to be of a similar mindset. Not so glad when Sam picks up and the first thing he says is, 

"So I have to tell you something about Bucky and Nat." 

Steve groans. "Sam... I really wasn't thinking when I told you all that stuff last night. I was drunk. Can we just... forget it happened?" 

"No, man, I think you're really going to want to know this. So, I was trying to figure out the best way to tell you and really couldn't think of anything, so I'll just say it," Sam leads up, which makes it ten times more nerve wracking than if he'd simply said it to begin with. "Bucky and Nat aren't dating, man."

Steve remains silent for a moment, waiting for Sam to reveal that this is his idea of a funny joke or for him to clarify that he'd misspoken or that they weren't dating, they were engaged or something like that. But it doesn't come and instead, they're just both on the phone call in silence for a long moment. Finally, Steve gets his wits back long enough to ask, "What?" 

"Yeah, man. They're good friends, really good friends, but they're definitely not dating. Bucky's single, dude. Has been for as long as I've known him," he explains. 

"But... But they're constantly all over each other!" Steve insists. Come to think of it, he'd never seen them kiss, but they'd always been so affectionate that it had never even made him doubt any of it. "Are you sure?" 

"Yeah, Steve, I'm positive. Nat's just like that with her close friends. I'm pretty sure she'd be appalled to hear you say you thought they were together. Buck's like a brother to her," Sam says. 

"Gosh..." That certainly changes some things and now Steve's not even sure what to do with himself. He'd never said anything because he didn't want to impose on Bucky's relationship. But if there's no relationship to begin with... "Thanks for telling me, Sam." 

"Of course. Don't do anything stupid, okay? I mean, follow your heart and all that, but at least think about it first," Sam advises. 

"Don't worry, Sam. I'm hoping to keep some of my dignity intact through all this, too," Steve promises. 

He hangs up after that and spends an embarrassingly long moment just sitting at his kitchen table and staring blankly at the wall. That changes a lot, doesn't it? He'd kept things to himself out of respect for Natasha and not wanting to put Bucky in an uncomfortable situation. But if he's not in a relationship at all... Time for Steve to reconsider it seems. 

On one hand, it might still be just as bad an idea for Steve to say anything. After all, it could easily end with Bucky deciding it made him too uncomfortable anyway and wanting to end their friendship there. But a part of Steve wasn't sure he could live with himself if he never found out for sure, especially considering their history. He had to know for sure, even with all the risks. If Steve could be the type of person to lie and hide things easily, he would, but unfortunately, he'd always been open almost to a fault. 

So, perhaps like the biggest fool in the world, he shows up at Bucky's door that night, despite what he'd promised Sam about thinking it through. He should think it through for at least a day or two, but it's been too long since he's been mulling these things over and having everything he thought he knew turned on his head makes it hard to figure out how to act. So there he is, standing in front of Bucky's apartment door, and bringing his hand up to knock before he can second guess himself. 

Well, he's already second guessing himself, but at least before he can come back to his senses long enough to stop himself. It's too late now, anyhow, because Bucky comes to open the door, looking as confused as one would expect when opening the door for an unannounced friend on a Sunday evening. 

"Steve?" he says, frowning a bit. "Did you leave something yesterday?" 

Steve should take that as a lifeline. He should lie and claim he'd lost something here, perhaps search for it for a few minutes, and then apologize for intruding. It would be the smart thing to do. But, clearly, Steve has never been very smart. Nor has he ever had much of a sense of self preservation. So instead of doing that or any of the countless other smart options, he just blurts out, "I think I'm still in love with you." 

To his credit, Bucky doesn't just shut the door in his face, nor does he ask Steve to leave. He just blinks, confused, and then steps back to open the door a bit wider. "Well. That seems like a conversation to not have in a hallway." 

Steve follows Bucky back inside his apartment, feeling all his briefly found courage sap out of him once more. He's not sure why he ever thought coming here was a good idea, but it's far too late to do anything about it. In for a penny, in for a pound, Steve supposes, and goes to sit down on Bucky's couch. Perhaps it's the nerves, but Bucky's apartment had seemed far less intimidating last night, when he'd been drinking and moping all by himself. Bucky comes and sits down next to him, which would normally make Steve feel better about any situation, but only serves to make him feel even more nervous today. 

"So... You mind saying that one more time? Because I think maybe I'm starting to have delusions," Bucky says, laughing uncomfortably. 

Steve winces, because it was bad enough to blurt it out once. "Maybe I'm being dramatic and letting that get the best of me, but... I still love you, Buck. We're not kids anymore and we're different people now, but I still love you. Since coming back... All I can ever think about is how I should have never left. Never left Brooklyn, but more importantly, never left you." 

"Jeez, Steve... You sure know how to turn a guy's life upside down, don't you?" Bucky leans back on the couch, shaking his head in apparent disbelief. 

It suddenly strikes Steve how very terrible this whole thing is and that he's being a rather selfish friend. He and Bucky had found something good between them. And it had been Steve to leave in the first place, breaking Bucky's heart in the process. So to show up like this? Steve has to admit it has edges of manipulation to it that he's not proud of. But it's too late to take it back, so he just sighs and tries to do as much damage control as possible. "I know. I'm sorry. I don't know that coming here was the best idea, but... I'm sorry, Buck. I just had to tell you. I couldn't keep it in me any longer. We can... We can stay the same as things are right now. If we can manage it. I just... I had to say it out loud, at least once." 

"Steve, you were my first love. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you until you decided to leave for California. You were always the one who got away. And now you come here telling me you wish you'd never left?" Bucky shakes his head. "It's like something straight out of my dreams, Stevie." 

"You're not mad?" Steve asks, gathering up enough courage to look over at Bucky properly for the first time since coming into the apartment. 

"Mad? I'm about as far from mad as anyone can be, Steve," Bucky assures him. 

"Oh. Well, I'll be honest, I didn't think any of this through, and I definitely didn't think through what I'd do if you didn't just kick me out immediately," Steve admits. 

Bucky chuckles. "Only planning for the worst outcome. Yeah, that sounds like the Steve I know. But c'mon, give me some credit, even if I felt nothing for you, I wouldn't just kick you out for something like that." 

"So you do still have feelings for me?" Steve asks. It sounds like something an elementary schooler would pass on a note and he has the sense to be embarrassed about it, but also, he's already made a fool of himself today, so a little more can't hurt all that much.

"I think I always will, regardless of what happens between us. Don't get me wrong, I don't think it's quite love anymore. And I don't think you love me either, even if it seems that way. But it is something special. You've always had a special place in my heart, Steve," he insists. 

Steve is pretty sure that he would never act like this unless he was lovesick in the worst of ways, but he doesn't make any effort to contradict Bucky. "So... Want to do anything about it? Jeez, I feel like I'm in middle school again, but you know what I mean." 

"To be fair, the first time you asked me out, it was with one of those little check yes or no notes on the corner of a math test, so I think middle school might just be our thing," Bucky insists. "Same answer as in 7th grade, by the way. I would love to take you out sometime. Something a bit more grown up now that we're not underage, maybe." 

"We can get proper drinks instead of wine coolers we stole from your older cousins," Steve agrees, laughing. 

"Exactly. It sounds like the perfect date already. Can I ask you one thing, though? Why now? You've been back for a while now. What changed?" Bucky asks. 

Steve groans, because it's horribly embarrassing, but he doesn't have long enough to come up with some alternative story that makes him sound like less of an idiot, so he simply tells the truth. "I maybe sort of thought that you and Natasha were dating." 

"Me and Nat?" Bucky bursts out into laughter. "God, Steve. No. Me and Nat are definitely not together. Just wait 'til she hears about this. She's going to think it's hilarious." 

"Does she have to know? Can't it just be one big inside joke between you, me, and Sam?" he pleads. 

"Sam knows? Oh, then Nat definitely needs to know, too. And if Nat knows, then Clint knows and, really, you should just make peace with being joked about for a little while," Bucky warns. 

Steve starts to complain, because that's mortifying and definitely not fair - they really did seem like a couple! -, but then Bucky kisses him for the first time in a decade and yeah, everything else does seem pretty insignificant now. Let him be the butt of all their jokes for a while. He's the clear winner anyway. 


End file.
